The cinematography is a headache-inducing whirlwind of zoom-ins and crash zooms. Every punch is accompanied by a sound effect borrowed from a 1980s arcade game. The editing is choppy; scenes transition with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. This is not a film you watch; it’s a film you survive.
However, for the casual viewer looking for an entertaining action romp, this will feel like a slog. The magic of the first film—that lightning-in-a-bottle mix of law, lawlessness, and charisma—is missing. Police Wala Gunda 2 is a sequel that proves that sometimes, you cannot arrest the same lightning twice. police wala gunda 2
In the annals of Bhojpuri cinema, certain titles carry a weight of expectation, a promise of unapologetic masala, thunderous dialogue, and a hero who can bend the laws of physics as easily as he bends the goons. Police Wala Gunda (Part 1) was one such film—a raw, energetic potboiler that introduced a character who was both the upholder of the law and its most terrifying breaker. Naturally, a sequel was inevitable. Enter Police Wala Gunda 2 , a film that arrives with a siren’s blare but soon runs out of gas on a bumpy road. This is not a film you watch; it’s a film you survive
The question isn’t whether this film is “good” in a conventional sense—we are beyond such metrics. The question is: Does it deliver the pulpy, testosterone-fueled chaos its title promises? The answer, disappointingly, is only in fits and starts. The plot, if one can call it that, is a Xerox of a Xerox. Pradeep Pandey “Chintu” returns as Shivraj, the titular police officer with a gunda’s heart. This time, the village of Balua Tola is terrorized by a new villain, Michael (played with hammy glee by a newcomer trying too hard to channel 1990s Bollywood villains). Michael doesn’t just commit crimes; he humiliates the system, burns police stations, and, in the opening scene, literally urinates on a uniform. This, of course, is the cue for Shivraj’s entry. Police Wala Gunda 2 is a sequel that
However, even Chintu seems tired by the second half. The swagger that felt organic in the first film now feels rehearsed. He goes through the motions: the tilted cap, the mirrored sunglasses, the slow-motion walk. But the fire is dimmer. The villain, Michael, is a disaster—neither terrifying nor funny, just loud. Every time he screams “Shivraaaj!”, you feel your brain cells retreat in self-defense. Director Rajkumar R. Pandey knows his audience: they are here for the thanedar hitting people with improbable objects. And to his credit, the action sequences are gloriously absurd. In one set piece, Shivraj defeats twenty men using only a handcuff and a pressure cooker. In another, he stops a speeding truck by punching its hood—the truck flips, of course, and Shivraj adjusts his tie.
Thanedar hai, lekin dil se gunda. Film hai, lekin dimaag se outda.
The first 20 minutes are pure gold. Shivraj’s introduction—riding a motorcycle through a wall, slapping four henchmen with one hand while holding a lassi in the other—is everything you want. The conflict is simple: Michael kidnaps Shivraj’s sister (a character with no name, only the designation “behenji”). The rest of the 2-hour 20-minute runtime is a chase from one dusty landscape to another, punctuated by songs where the lead actress (a forgettable role for Akshara Singh) shakes her ghungroos while looking perpetually confused. Pradeep Pandey, known as Chintu, carries the entire film on his broad shoulders. He has the physicality for the role—the stern jaw, the squint that says “main abhi tumhaari le dunga,” and a surprisingly effective deadpan comic timing. In one scene, when a goon threatens him with a pistol, Chintu looks at the camera, sighs, and says, “License hai mera paas, tumhaare paas?” (I have a license, do you?). The audience in the single-screen theater where I watched this erupted.